


Endlessly

by poppetawoppet



Category: American Idol RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Past Lives, Angst, M/M, not historically accurate, that's where the character death plays in
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-01-31
Updated: 2010-01-31
Packaged: 2018-04-18 18:21:05
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,800
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4715939
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/poppetawoppet/pseuds/poppetawoppet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Adam and Kris go see a fortune teller, and ask about their past lives. AKA a past/alternative lives fic</p>
            </blockquote>





	Endlessly

**Author's Note:**

> Special thanks to everyone at [](http://poppetawoppet.livejournal.com/25382.html#)[**idol_meta**](http://poppetawoppet.livejournal.com/25382.html#) who saw my snippets and encouraged me. Same goes to the kradio benches. Also thank you [](http://bubby-wubby.livejournal.com/profile)[**bubby_wubby**](http://bubby-wubby.livejournal.com/) for your usual look see and insightful commentary (yes I know you hate me) and [](http://nannerz2cool.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://nannerz2cool.livejournal.com/)**nannerz2cool** for saving this fic from being abandoned.

Shelley had felt something coming all day. It was hard to concentrate on the tarot cards and the giggling girls when something big was headed her way. Luckily, the girls were just looking for entertainment, and they left giggling harder than ever.

She closed her eyes and focused. This had been the first thing she had discovered about her gift. She saw the crowds of souls, a blurring rainbow that reminded her of the neon lights of rides whirling in the night. She recognized relationships: mothers and daughters, husbands and wives, groups of friends—all clustered together. All souls had a connection. After all, these souls were all here together in one place. But two souls stood out amongst the many.

They were slightly brighter than the others, the connection between them so complicated Shelley almost felt dizzy. They were friends, that much was certain. But the blue and green intermingled so well that she couldn’t tell one from the other. Shelley had always known about souls such as these: soulmates was the word people liked to use. But often people mixed soulmates with lovers or people fated to be together. Shelley knew differently; it was more complex than that. She had a feeling that this was one instance.

Then they brightened for one moment, and Shelley looked away. It was as if she was peeking at something so private, so intimate... They were friends, but there was something more there, she was sure of it. She carefully opened her eyes, her heart beating in her ears. Whoever they were, they were coming her way.

She went through five palm readings and two horoscopes before Adam Lambert and Kris Allen walked into her tent. At first she only saw their faces, and was slightly star struck and in awe. Then she closed her eyes and peeked for a moment and saw the same bright souls as before.

They had arrived, and she was unsure of how things would turn out, but she did know one thing: it was more complicated than anything she had ever Seen before.

*  
"So the sign says past lives."

Shelley sighed. They had been having a normal conversation about horoscopes when Adam brought it up.

"Yes. It does." Shelley waited to see what else Adam would say.

"That sounds interesting."

Shelley glanced at Kris, who obviously didn't want to be here, then back at Adam. "Yes, but it's complicated."

"I can deal with complicated. I've been dealing with complicated for awhile now."

Shelley caught the quick glance, the flare along the connection between the two men. She had never seen anything like it, and it both frightened and saddened her.

"Well, if you are going to both be here, then I see both of you."

"Really?" Adam asked.

She nodded, wondering how much she should reveal. "Well, you are connected. So are your pasts. And other lives."

Kris had sat down by then. He frowned, "Other lives?"

"Other realities. Alternate worlds. Those are harder to see except in the present tense because the worlds are so diverse, it's hard to pick up events. But the closer I get to now, the more possibilities there are."

"Go on," Kris said leaning forward. "I'm actually kind of interested now."

"Well, look at you now," Shelley found herself rambling—she rarely got to talk about her craft, so any interest unglued her—"Would you be here if say you hadn't decided to come to the fair? If there was something more eye catching? All those moments can result in entirely different lives."

It was then she caught a flash of memory, a picture to go with what she had felt earlier. She ran with it, even though she was nervous.

"For example," she said moving forward, led by instinct. "Would you be here, Kris, if Adam had decided to not ride the Whirling Terror?"

The surprise was expected. The accusation, however, came out of the wrong mouth.

"Are there cameras here? What the hell?" Adam exclaimed as he looked around the tent.  
Shelley winced as Adam tensed and stood. Of all the people she had thought he would have believed. But then again, she understood his wariness.

"She's telling the truth, Adam," Kris said softly.

She looked to Kris, whose head was tilted slightly. She wondered often, watching the show, how he could have ever been portrayed as uninteresting. Especially when he was looking back at her in curiosity. Revulsion she understood. Ridicule she knew. Curiosity…that was not usually in her vocabulary. She watched him for a moment, barely noticing as Adam sat down again.

"All right," Kris spoke first. "You have my attention now. I want to know more."

Shelley looked to Adam, who nodded once. She breathed again.

"Well, it's not exact. That should be the first thing you know. Whatever I see reflects from you. That's why both of you being here, now creates a situation in which both of you will see combined pasts."

She shrugged, ignoring the fleeting look, the flare of their souls.

"Unfortunately, it also reflects you. There may be lives we flash by that are happy, some that are sad. Whatever we see is probably representative of your current relationship."

"So you have no control," Adam's voice was flat. He was the unsure one now.

Shelley shook her head. "Not once it has begun. Most people back out at this point. Because once I start, it won't finish until we reach present day again."

"How many times have you done this?"

"With two people, Mr. Lambert? Never. With one? Enough to know that it is not a journey to be taken lightly or for a whim."

"I want to know," Kris said.

Shelley turned to Kris, noting how Adam turned as well, how the blue seemed to _focus_ when Kris spoke.

"Why?" Adam's question was a whisper, probably not even intended to be known.

"Mostly, I want to see how things could have been. You know. Different."

Shelley was trying to ignore the turn of the conversation, but it was out in front of her. Adam looked at Kris a moment longer, Kris staring silently at his hands.

"I want to know too," Adam said finally.

Shelley nodded. "Okay. It won't be like what you think. You'll see things. This will happen in three stages. The further back you go, the harder it is to pinpoint memories. It will jump around quite a bit. The closer we get to now, you will begin to see more. Some will be from this world, some will not. For the most part, what you see will be from worlds so close to ours that we won't be able to tell a difference. But when we get to the present..."

She paused and swallowed. "It will go by quickly. Fragments of possibilities may fly by without us even knowing. Perhaps we will see significant moments from this lifetime. When it is over, I expect you may hate me."

"Why?"

Shelley looked at Adam. "Because people very rarely see what they want to."

"Then why do it at all?"

"Because I was given a gift. I choose to use it this way."

Adam nodded once, and Shelley closed her eyes briefly, focusing for a moment on the colors. She opened her eyes, noting how the two men sat unconsciously together. She had seen it in photos, but now she saw it as a reflection of their connection: they were pulled together and thought nothing of it. She held out her hands.

"Give me your hands. It helps if we retain physical contact."

Shelley held out her hands, waiting for both Adam and Kris to put each of theirs in hers. She glanced at them both as they exchanged a look between each other and nodded with understanding.

She took the two hands and focused. The room flickered slightly, flipping like an old movie projector, and she heard a sharp intake of breath before it began.

_flick flick flick flick flick flick flick_

Images passed by too quickly to focus. Trees. A River. Cold. Brown eyes. Blue eyes. Names called in the distance and lost in time.

_flick flick flick flick flick flick flick flick flick_

The sky shimmered in the distance, making the outlines of the monuments shimmered. The slave, he could not remember the last time he had been called by his name, stopped only a moment. He remembered the pain, remembered that idleness brought it. The wind blew at his back, stinging his welts with the loose sand, but the drying sweat on his shredded skin stung just as badly. He shifted the load of sand on his shoulder, following the line, repeating the same motions he had been doing since he could walk.

He was tired, but he had been tired his whole life. Heading back to the end of the line, he noticed someone new beside him. He didn’t know how the smaller man handled the weight of the same load, but the determined look in his brown eyes was familiar. Grabbing his with a firmer grip, Adam, that was his name, Adam, stepped in line behind the newcomer, watching as he handled his own load with a cautious familiarity.

It was then that Adam saw the scars on this new man’s back, knew that he had left and come back for some unknown reason. There were many things that frightened him, but Adam couldn’t think of anything worse than having to _come back_ to this life. Adam almost ran into the small man as he turned around.

“Sorry,” Adam whispered, eyeing the guards.

“It’s okay,” the stranger said, head still down. “I’d forgotten how quickly everyone moves.”

“You’ll get used to it.”

The new slave looked up and grinned slightly, and Adam followed him back to the beginning. He wondered how anyone here could be happy. He wondered how the other had moved up and fallen from grace. He wondered, and hoped he would find out. There was time for that later, or so he thought, before the new man was pulled away. Adam never saw him again.

_flick flick flick flick flick flick flick flick flick_

Rome wasn’t dying yet, but it was certainly changing. Kris passed by a few soldiers, nodding as he walked past them. His family followed cautiously, dressed for a picnic, except the basket held all the money they had. All the money they could scrounge. Kris passed by the familiar signs in the shape of a fish. It was best to ignore them, everyone ignored them. He wondered if the guide would come or if this was just a trap. He looked at his wife, walking in a determined pace despite the extra weight she carried. He was doing this for his child. That's what he told himself. They reached the arranged rendezvous point, and Kris leaned against the wall and waited. He saw no one, but it was early yet. He saw someone in the shadows, someone tall. Someone standing by himself.

“Hello,” the stranger said as he approached Kris. “I believe you are waiting for someone? Perhaps you could use some direction?”

Kris moved forward. “Yes. I am looking for the road to salvation.”

The other man nodded, the code fulfilled. “Follow me.”

Kris motioned for his family to join them. They followed as the tall man guided them through the back streets of the city. He had been smuggling families like them out of Rome for six months now, or so Kris had been told. Kris was just glad there were some who believed that different did not equal wrong. His family huddled close before a small gate leading into the countryside.

Another man waited there, to guide them somewhere safer. His parents passed by quickly. Katy looked the guide in the eye, thanking him silently. Lastly, Kris stood, staring back into Rome, resignation on his face. Then he looked at the guide.

“I know this may not mean much, but may I ask your name so I can pray for your safety?”

The man stared into Kris’s eyes and laughed softly. “Adam. And if I were to wish to pray for you?”

Kris chuckled, receiving open stares from his family. “My name is Kristopher. It was a pleasure to meet you Adam.”

It was then, after his family had disappeared over the hill that the guards yelled. Kris pulled out a knife and held it to Adam's throat.

"Don't take this the wrong way, but if you want to live, play along," Kris whispered.

"Put down the knife!"A soldier yelled.

"Never!" Kris yelled. "If I am to escape, I need to keep it. It has served me well so far."

He nudged Adam who nodded, squirming with what Kris assumed looked like fear. He hoped Adam was a good actor.

"What do we care about another actor? There are more where he came from."

Kris swallowed, thanking God silently that his family could not see.

"I see you have me cornered. If I let him go, and come with you, he will not be bothered?"

The soldier rolled his eyes. "You Christians and your ideals. Of course he won't. We don't kill people for acting under duress."

Kris nodded and let Adam go, turning and mouthing _Please, make sure they escape._ Adam said nothing, his blue eyes sad, but his face blank. Kris watched as Adam made a dramatic speech about hardships and dirty Christians, all the while looking at Kris and nodding slightly.

And then things were black

_flick flick flick flick flick flick flick flick flick_

Kris shifted in his seat, his free hand now in Adam's, and the three of them created a strange triangle over the glass table. Shelley breathed evenly. So far it had been easy. So far it had been…

_flick flick flick flick flick flick flick flick flick flick flick flick flick def more here_

Kristopher paused for a moment, once again praying for guidance. It was times like this they had warned him about. It was times like this, when his faith was stretched to the point of breaking that he needed to believe the most. But walking through the sea of bodies, some of them not even dead yet, he wondered.

He wondered.

The smell didn’t even bother him anymore, didn’t even penetrate his senses. The sight of decomposition barely made his notice. The cries however, the ones he could hear, were the one sound he could not block.

He had become a priest because of the music, because his family was too poor for him to be anything else. He did believe. He was faithful, but before this, he had spent most of his days in the monastery, writing and singing. But because he did not seem to be affected by this plague, by this Black Death, he was out in public every day, offering prayers, counseling, a familiar presence to those who lived. Most of his brothers had died or were dying. Most everyone was dying.

He continued walking, holding back his tears as families passed, begging God to stop, to forgive them for whatever sin brought this punishment upon them. Kris leaned down and spoke to a young woman, Katherine if he remembered rightly, orphaned now and alone. He tried his best to help, but wasn’t sure if he was actually doing any good.

He wandered through the town, not only speaking with people but helping move bodies as needed. He hated it, but it had to be done. And if he had learned one thing in this time, it was that God had plans for him, although what he did not know what this plan entailed. He passed his old home, trying to ignore the emptiness of it, the lack of sounds and laughter he remembered from his time there. He closed his eyes for a moment, pushing away the emotions as he walked amongst his family, his neighbors, old friends. He paused at the single body lying in the alley, still breathing shallowly and heavily. Although by the looks of it, the man was well on his way to being dead.

Kristopher bent down and turned the body carefully, “Is there anything I can help you with?”

He stopped, gasped as a pair of familiar blue eyes looked into his and shined briefly. The man shook his head, a small smile on his face as his breathing finally stopped.

“Adam?” Kristopher whispered, his best friend from his childhood dead at his feet.

Wearily, he fell to his knees and began to pray again. It felt empty and useless.

_flick flick flick flick flick flick flick flick flick flick_

Adam stretched, waiting as the models arranged themselves. He began filling in the background, careful to leave enough room for the angels in front of him.

They weren't really angels, any of them, dressed in white robes, but Adam had selected all of them personally for some aesthetic or another. The girl in the far back, Allison, for he long red locks. The one in front, Megan for her eyes. And the one man in front… Kris.

Adam knew he had picked Kris for entirely selfish reasons, although the priest in training did have a holy aura around him. But Adam had picked Kris because he was just simply gorgeous.  
His teachers had told him to follow inspiration. Adam smiled to himself. He picked up the brush.  
Somehow months passed as he painted the murals and ceilings and frescoes. Kris walked up to him one day and passed him a piece of paper. Adam looked at it once and nodded. That night he entered the confessional.

"I am not of your faith."

"This is the only way we can speak in private," Kris said from the other side of the screen.

"What is that you want from me?"

"You keep painting my face."

"It is a fine one."

"You shouldn't speak of those things publicly. You are tolerated because you are a marvelous artist, but the Church would condemn you if they had any hard evidence."

Adam paused for a moment. "Why are you saying this?"

"I do not know. Because you are a fine artist. Because you strike me as a goodly man, if not a Godly one."

There was a silence, as if Kris was going to say more, but it remained unfilled.

"Well, I will keep your advice in mind then."

Adam wasn't sure how their friendship came about after that, except that Kris would walk with him sometimes, and they would speak of art, and music, and Kris would look at him, and Adam would consider the possibilities sometimes, but he never pushed.

After all, he was already a sinner in most people's eyes, to test the faith of one of God's chosen would be like tempting damnation. Adam wasn't much in the way of a believer, but he knew what his limits were. Plus he much preferred the comfort of Kris's friendship to the unknown depths of anything else.

They never spoke of it again, not directly, but Adam always knew that Kris was looking out for him, perhaps out of friendship, perhaps out of love. Either way, it was one of the few constants in Adam's life.

Even when he sat in his room alone, knowing that one day he would die that way, he knew there was one person who cared.

_flick flick flick flick flick flick flick flick flick flick_

Kris leaned back, and Shelley strained to hold onto his hand. He couldn't stop it, not now, and by the look on his face he didn't want to, but his body wanted to stop. Adam still looked disinterested, although his eyes were slightly glazed over. Shelley glanced at the clock, ever amazed at how time passed, lives blurring into one another…

_flick flick flick flick flick flick flick flick flick flick_

Kristopher walked amongst the murmuring crowd, all of them whispering short testimonies to him. He was the judge in this matter, he had been elected mayor. And the evidence was mounting.

He reached the front of the crowd, looking at the tall man standing in between two others, his arms being held tightly between the soldiers. The man had an air of resignation about him. Kristopher did not look in his eyes.

"You have been accused of witchcraft, Mr. Lambert, and I have heard much evidence towards this fact. What do you have to say?"

He said nothing, his eyes gazing into the distance. Catcalls from the crowd. "He bewitched my daughters!" "He is the devil come to ruin us all!"

Kristopher stepped forward, looking into blue eyes. He saw pain there, but how could the devil feel pain?

"You have nothing to say?" Kristopher prompted.

The man laughed. "How could I say anything? It does not matter what I say. I have been convicted already. But know this, I am not what they say I am."

Kristopher blinked, and shook his head. He had been transfixed by this man's words. He had been caught in the spell of his eyes. His heart was racing. He looked away, nodded to the crowd. A cheer rose up, and Kristopher did not watch as they took care of the witch.

But he still questioned himself, questioned many things.

_flick flick flick flick flick flick flick flick flick flick_

In these moments in between solid images, flashes of other lives flickered before them, passing before they could recognize themselves, the time, the place. Shelley knew they didn’t understand why they were seeing what they were seeing, only that time had been skipping fairly fast. In the last fifteen minutes they had been through many centuries, each life a blur of color and light. When it stopped, that was what frightened her the most, because there was so much…

_flick flick flick flick flick flick flick flick flick flick_

The wind sprayed the smell of the ocean into his face and Adam smiled. He was back on his ship. He ran a hand over his leg, feeling the scar again, wondering what it would have been like if he had not hired Michael as a crewman, Michael who had once dreamed of being a doctor.

Adam stood along the railing, remembering just how everything was supposed to be. A year was a long time when he considered the sea his home. But one thing was missing.

He should have replaced the missing member of his crew, but Adam couldn't bring himself to do it. They could run one short. He would have to promote Matt. He was reliable, even though he had a low sense of humor. They all did, really, but Matt's was the worst.

But Matt was good in a fight and knew when to back out of a situation, so he would be just fine.

But he wasn't Kris. Adam laughed to himself. He had always known it was just for a little while, but there was always that wish for just a little more time.

"You weren't going to sail without me, were you?"

Adam turned, and smiled at the slight figure leaning against the rail behind him. Kris looked smaller somehow, as if he was weighed down, but at the same time, the smile on his face belied that weight.

"Took your time, Allen. Might have to dock your pay for that."

"I'll make it up to you Captain," Kris smirked.

Adam nodded taking him around the deck, showing him the changes that had been made. Somehow they had made it down to the captain’s quarters, to the middle of the room. Kris was buried in his chest, fists clenched in the fabric of Adam's jacket. He looked up.

"I told them I had a contract. That I had to come or you would besmirch the family name."

Adam smiled, "What a wonderful liar I have made of you Kristopher. Let's get this ship under way."

"This is it you know."

Adam nodded, "Then we better make it count, then."  
He laid his head on top of Kris's a moment before going on deck to give orders.

Late that night, Kris turned in bed and looked up at Adam. "I don't want to go back."

"You have to," Adam sighed, rubbing his hand along Kris’s arm.

"I know. I am the eldest. It is required of me. But I will always be here, you know that."  
"I do."

Kris turned again, falling into sleep. Adam buried his face in Kris's hair, memorizing how it felt, how easily they fit together here, the sway of the sea and the slow breathing beside him making things seem calm and perfect.

But they were not. Adam hoped it was one of those trips that lasted months, but it might only be days. He closed his eyes, bringing Kris's hand to his lips and kissing the ring that weighed him down, that made this time the last one. Adam put the hand back down and held Kris close. He did not sleep.

_flick flick flick flick flick flick flick flick flick flick_

The room was full of laughter, unlike their faces.

They all knew this would be the last time they were together. That after today, their lives would change, and the next time they met…

The next time they met, they would be in blue and gray, guns in hands and friendship the last thing on their mind. Kris changed the key again, segueing into a new song, trying to keep his face from falling every time he thought about it. He had made his choice; his choice had been made for him. Either way, he was sticking with it, despite his heavy heart, despite all logic telling him he was wrong.

But he wasn't wrong. That was the problem. There was no right or wrong, only sides, and pain, and separation. Kris looked up from his hands and caught Adam's eyes. Adam nodded once, as if to say he understood.

But he and Adam had already spoken regretful words and Kris wasn't even sure understanding could heal the breach. It hurt, because they had been closer than brothers, and now Kris could only claim acquaintance.

The party began to wind down, with the room emptying and farewells exchanged. Katy gathered her things, and Kris asked her to wait one moment.

"Adam," he said.

Adam turned from the last of the guests and walked over.

"Are you leaving, then, Kris?"

"Yes. I just wanted…"

It was then Adam pulled him close and held him close for a few beats.

"Do you really think we could ever let something so silly come between us?"

"I do not think it silly, Adam."

"Neither do I. But this may be the last time we meet as friends. So let us end it so."

Kris nodded, and they hugged once more.

"I wish," Kris said, "I wish that we did not have to choose. That we could have resolved the conflict without war. I do not regret my choice, nor do I envy you yours. But I do wish we could just stay here."

Adam laughed. "Well, yes, but then we would be cowards. Perhaps someday we will face each other, and treat each other as brothers again."

"Perhaps. But I hope not. Despite the fact you are going north, and I south, I do not wish for us ever to meet in battle. If it came to that I would not know what to do."

"Neither would I."

They stood a moment more. Adam sighed and clasped Kris's shoulder. "Know this then, no matter what, we will always have this day, when we were all brothers, even if only a moment. I wish you well."

"And I you."

They shook hands. Kris turned and escorted Katy out of the house, resisting the urge to turn back and hide from the world, to refuse to admit that everything he knew was falling apart and he did not know how to fix it.

"Are you ready?" Katy asked him.

He nodded. He wasn't ready, but he tucked away the memories of the day into a deep corner of himself and prepared for the coming war.

_flick flick flick flick flick flick flick flick flick flick_

Adam finally moved for the first time, turning slightly to Kris. Kris sat still, his eyes glazed, his mouth moving slightly. Shelley could not tell what he was trying to say.

_flick flick flick flick flick flick flick flick flick flick_

Adam ran across the room in a rhythm that had become too familiar in the last few weeks. He distantly heard the shouts and screams and guns, but he had already gotten used to them. He went through the motions of trying to save another life, sometimes succeeding, sometimes not. When he wrote home about the war, he didn’t know what to say, except it was mostly long periods of boredom with moments of sheer terror. He was both thankful and resentful that he didn’t have to be at the front of the lines, that he was only a medic. But it also meant that he saw the worst of it, he saw all the pain, the death.

In one of their quiet moments, a private from another company approached him, holding a small package.

“I know you,” Adam said, frowning. “Bullet to the shoulder, right?”

The private grinned. “That’s right. You saved my arm. My life.”

Adam shrugged. “What’s that you got there?”

The private-Allen was his name, if Adam read right- handed it to Adam. “While I was on furlough, my girl, Katy, managed to send me some gingerbread cookies. I managed to sneak them back to the front. They're kind of stale, but they're still cookies."

Adam opened the package, the smell brightening several faces around him. “Do you mind if I share?”

“No. They’re yours.”

Adam broke the cookies in half and handed them down the line. They were slightly hard, but amazing. Grunts of pleasure echoed up and down the line. “You tell your girl, Katy was it?” The private nodded. “You tell her thank you. And give her a kiss from all of us.”

The rest of the company mumbled around their crumbs. For this slight moment, they were home. Then a shot rang out, and Adam found himself on the dirt underneath the private, who had gone from aw shucks to instantly alert faster than Adam gave him credit for.

“So, Private Allen,” Adam whispered. “Guess you’re stuck here for a minute, huh?”

“Guess so. At least I know I’ve got a good medic, huh? Now shut up and stay down, so the rest of us can do our jobs so you can do yours."

Adam nodded and watched as Kris and the others joined

_flick flick flick flick flick flick flick flick flick flick_

Bobbing his head to the music, Kris checked the small crowd again. He was able to reassure himself the faces were all friends, all trustworthy. While the job paid him very nicely, the last thing he wanted was to get busted by the feds. It wasn’t his place, but as the bartender, it made him the guilty one. It wasn't exactly what he had originally planned on doing with his life, but here he was. He smiled as Adam sat at the bar and put a drink in front of him.

“Well, good evening Mr. Lambert."

"Good evening Mr. Allen."

It had started as a joke. Kris had first welcomed Adam to the establishment, which was a rotating series of basements and hidey-holes, and Adam had raised an eyebrow. So they had taken to greeting each other by their last names and pretending that this was legal.

"Anything new and exciting in your life, Adam?"

"There might be, tonight," Adam grinned.

"Oh?"

Kris shouldn't feel jealous, but in the year he had known Adam, these nights had become something akin to the best friendship Kris had ever had.

Adam nodded, his face serious. "In fact," he looked at his watch, "right about now."

Kris looked up as the doors burst open, and police burst into the basement. People began screaming and running, but there were too many cops. Kris, for his part, stood stock still, his hands still holding a damp towel and an empty glass.

He looked at Adam, who stood. "Sorry. You're going to have to come with me."

Kris continued to stare, his mind refusing to work and body frozen. He understood, at the most basic level what was happening, but he continued to stare at Adam.

Adam shook his head, and stepped behind the bar. "Nothing personal," he whispered. "I'll put a good word in for you, because you seem like a decent guy."

"I thought you were my friend," Kris whispered.

"That's what you were supposed to think," Adam said, and led him out the room.

_flick flick flick flick flick flick flick flick flick flick_

Kris straightened his uniform jacket again, wondering exactly when he had been convinced to join the army. Perhaps it was the universal national pride that was in the air, or perhaps it was being with his friends at the time they signed up.

It made his mother and father happy, so Kris was good. It felt good to be a part of something. He tended to be one of those people who let things happen, and now he was part of making things happen.

Most of the time, it seemed like a lot of marching and looking tough, but they were actually going into the field tomorrow. Kris wasn't too worried, they had been training for a very long time. There was a farewell party, and Katy had kissed his cheek and smiled at him, so it seemed like a success.

Somehow Kris got turned around and found himself on the other side of town. The wrong side. No one was outside, there was curfew after all, but at one house Kris saw someone at the window. He stopped, his breath catching. He knew that face.

_"Watch out!" a voice yelled and Kris hit the wall._

_A car passed down the street, going too fast and swerving at the corner._

_Kris stood up and reached for the hand of whoever had just saved him. Then he saw who it was, saw the clothing. He still held out his hand._

_"Are you ok?" he asked._

_"I should be asking you that," the man asked and Kris shared a grin with him._

_Kris shrugged. "Thank you. I owe you one."_

_"Yeah. Well. I need to go, before someone decides I'm invading the wrong side of town."_

Kris wasn't supposed to have liked him. Kris wasn't supposed to even remember that he existed.

But all he remembered, through the whole of the war, was those eyes staring out the window, taking in the uniform and changing somehow. Especially at the end of the war, when he realized the full extent of what had happened.

He saw them every time he closed his own.

_flick flick flick flick flick flick flick flick flick flick_

Adam had lost his friends in the crowd of people. Not that it mattered much, he was sure he'd either find them, or find a way back home somehow. He sat for a moment, watching the stage in awe while simultaneously cursing the sun. It was nice to be unknown, yet at the same time he wished someone would recognize him, so he could find some shade.

"Is anyone sitting here?"

Adam looked up and saw a younger man, who looked too clean cut to be here. "Not that I am aware of."

"I lost my buddies, and I'm tired of looking."

"Me too. Adam."

"Kris."

They shook hands. Kris's fingertips were calloused.

"You play?" Adam asked.

"Yeah,” Kris said, sitting next to Adam. “This is so amazing."

"I bet. You in college?"

Kris nodded. "NYU. You?"

Adam shook his head. "No. Luckily I have terrible eyesight."

Kris nodded, and turned to the stage.

They spent the next day and a half together, discussing music and politics, arguing chord structure and policies. In the space of twenty-four hours, it felt as if Adam had known Kris his whole life. It also helped Kris was hot.

At one point, Kris fell asleep on Adam's shoulder, and Adam returned the favor. As the music festival ended, Kris found his friends, and Adam his.

Adam shook Kris's hand. "It was an unexpected pleasure."

"Same here. I liked your movie by the way."

"You knew?"

"Yeah. Figured you weren't here to be accosted."

Adam smiled and clapped Kris on the back. They made vague promises to write or call. Adam made more movies, achieving modest fame, and more money than he could think of spending. Adam saw Kris's name on a list of graduates, a picture of him with a beautiful girl, but they never spoke again. But for two days, he had been Adam's and no one else’s.

_flick flick flick flick flick flick flick flick flick flick_

Kris’s deep wracking cough started three weeks ago. Adam tried to pretend it didn't exist, but it was almost impossible to ignore anymore. Not with Kris vomiting up blood in the toilet, his frame so small now.

"We should go to a doctor," Adam said, kneeling down next to him.

Kris smiled weakly. "You know that they can't do anything."

"They could make you comfortable."

"You make me comfortable."

Adam sighed. Now was not the time for Kris's sly sarcasm. "Kris."

"I'm tired of being poked and prodded Adam. I'm done. I know what's wrong with me. With you."

Adam closed his eyes. "I'm fine."

Kris nudged him gently. "Liar."

There was affection in that. Love. And a little consternation.

"Really I am."

"I saw the bruises. You've lost ten pounds in a week. And you look tired all the time. You have it too."

Adam gathered Kris in his arms, leaning against the cool porcelain of the bathtub.

"I know."

Kris smiled up at him. "At least I won't have to wait long for you."

Adam closed his eyes again, the tears warming his cheeks. "Do you regret choosing me?"

Kris looked confused. "There was no choosing Adam. I love you. Always have. Not your fault that I got sick. No one's fault. No blame."

Adam clenched a fist. He wanted to blame someone, but it was more likely that he had given it to Kris not the other way around. They would never know. He wasn't much of a believer, but he often asked for forgiveness, because he had ruined Kris, had shortened his life, just for love.

"Stop thinking, Adam. We'll be okay."

Somehow Adam made it back to the bed with Kris. Kris shivered against him, despite the three layers of clothing and the thick blanket covering them both.

"I love you Adam, you know that?"

"I do. I love you too."

The last thing Kris mumbled before he slept was "Worth it. Every single damn minute."

When Adam woke up next to Kris the next day and found him unresponsive and cold, he began to pray, wondering if God would listen.

_flick flick flick flick flick flick flick flick flick flick_

Shelley braced herself. The time periods were more current, which meant they were almost done. She was crying and could see the pain in each of their eyes. But now the possibilities came too close, too quickly.

_flick_

Adam was sitting in the airport, watching as a heavyset man supported a short, brown haired one who had obviously been sick. They sat down across from him. Adam asked what is wrong, and as soon as the words near death and canceled flight come out of the larger man's mouth, Adam handed over his own ticket and wished them well. Adam later received a letter of thanks, but then nothing else comes of it. He thinks about it often

_flick_

Kris hushed the classroom, but the kids were squirming in their seats. He introduced the American Idol, Adam Lambert and they all screamed and giggled. Adam took a lot of time with them, and shook Kris's hand afterwards. Kris wondered if they would have met had he had the courage to try out.

_flick_

Adam shook the hand of the team’s manager after rehearsal. He was singing the National Anthem and quickly greeted all of the players. Kris Allen, the shortstop, was his guide, and Adam quickly thought _take me out to the ballgame_ before spying the wedding ring and sighing. Adam looked to another player, but their affair was short and disastrous. He never watched baseball again.

_flick_

Kris wasn't sure how he ended up in the club, but he was dancing with someone tall and dark and _large_ and he liked it. Kris simultaneously wondered how to get out of the situation while not wanting the night to end.

_flick_

Adam wasn't sure about the American Idol band, except the guitarist was very hot, and very single. He seemed shy, but after talking to him, Adam could see the potential for a good musical relationship if nothing else. When the hot guitarist's very pretty friend, who also happened to be a girl, showed up, Adam sighed and picked up the phone to call Brad. Maybe Kris could be a friend. _Yes crushing on your friend. Never a good idea._ So Adam slowly backed away, never understanding why Kris looked so confused and hurt. They had just been friends.

_flick_

Kris dug his hands into Adam's shoulders, moaning as Adam bit his neck, not caring that a mark would be there the next day. Somewhere in his head his mind was screaming **KATY KATY KATY** , but Adam's hands were snapping open his jeans, and Kris's hips moved forward to meet them. Adam grinned and knelt down, his mouth wet against Kris’s cock. Kris closed his eyes, his hands in Adam's hair, glad for once that Idol had afforded him a suite and that the noise wouldn't be heard.

_flick_

Ryan calls Adam's name. Kris is hugging him and crying and cheering on the side with Allison. The crowds at tour are too wild, the pressure too much, and they fight more than they talk anymore. Adam wishes aloud that it had been the other way, because it is all too much. He found himself breaking away, partying too hard, and living his life in ways he had never wanted to, and despite getting everything he had ever wanted, he still felt as if he had missed out on so much more.

 _flick_ they met and parted _flick_ they met and became friends, lost touch _flick_ they passed in the street, barely acknowledging the other, their lives passing in one moment _flick_ Kris yelling at Adam for fucking up his life _flick_ Adam walking out the door when Kris wouldn't make a decision _flick_ Katy looking at both of them and demanding to know _flick_ a thousand possibilities, a thousand endings _flick flick flick flick flick flick flick flick flick flick flick flick flick flick flick flick flick flick flick_

Adam turned in his seat, not knowing what to expect from the experience, except that he is one of about one hundred, and that alone sets all of them apart.

"Hi, I'm Adam."

The man next to him smiled, and shook his hand. "Kris. You as nervous as I am."

Adam shrugged. "Probably. But I'm not going to let it stop me. You?"

"Hey, I'm just taking it day by day. If I'm here tomorrow, great. If not, that's ok."

Adam tilted his head. "Huh. I want it all."

They grinned at each other. When Adam saw Kris the next day and the next, they shared another grin, as if to say _You still here? Good for you, man._

In that first moment, when they were shaking hands, Adam felt nothing more than a simple greeting. Later, after their first night as roommates, staying up half the night laughing, he wondered how he had missed the beginning of something.

_flick_

The neon lights streaked across the night sky, and all Kris could hear was the scream coming out of his own mouth. He really wasn't scared, but there was a rush in his stomach, a familiar feeling of excitement edged with fear. He couldn't turn his head to look at Adam, the force of the ride forming a cocoon around his body. The Whirling Terror began to stop, the neon lights slowing in a haze of green and pink.

Kris turned to Allison, who grinned and shook her finger at Kris. "All right," she said, "I'm done. I'm going with Megan. We're going to ride the Ferris wheel and see if we can see the buses from the top."

Kris nodded, and hugged her goodbye. He looked around for Adam, but couldn't find him. He was worried, because Adam hadn't wanted to ride in the first place, but he and Allison had convinced Adam it would be okay. Kris walked around the ride, his heart beginning to beat a little faster, a twist in his gut because maybe he should have let things be. Then he saw a familiar head in a dark corner. Adam was sitting on the sidewalk, head precariously balanced in his hands, hanging between his knees.

Kris almost ran over, stopped about a foot away. "Hey."

"Go away," Adam moaned, not looking up.  
  
Kris sighed. "Okay, so I guess the Whirling Terror was not a good idea."

"You think?"

Kris grinned a little at the sarcasm, and knelt down in front of Adam. He reached out his hand, and lifted Adam's chin up. "Are you okay?"

"I feel like someone stuck me in the dryer."

Kris laughed as Adam put his head down again. He leaned forward, kissed Adam's hair just above the forehead. "How about I go buy some cotton candy, you pretend to be disgusted and then steal some, and we do something _you_ want to do?"

Adam looked up, his eyes curious. "Will you kiss it better again?" he asked, voice plaintive.

Kris shrugged, standing and holding out his hand. Adam ignored the outstretched hand. Instead, Kris watched as Adam rose gracefully and came close enough that Kris could almost touch him. Suddenly everything was serious again.  
  
Kris looked up, tiptoed closer and pressed his mouth firmly against the corner of Adam's. He stepped back. "Better?"

Adam nodded slowly, his eyes never leaving Kris's. For a moment, there was something brighter than all the neon, louder than all the screams, and it was all Kris could do not to try and reach for it.

"Let's go get you some cotton candy, and see how I can torture you," Adam said, his eyebrow quirked. His eyes said everything else.

They walked among the tents and rides, laughing, lost among the crowd, the moment disappearing among the lights and the noise.

_flick_

The three pairs of hands broke apart and the room was silent, except for harsh breathing. Kris looked as if he was going to throw up. Shelley blinked, preparing herself for whatever was coming. Adam looked beyond her, his eyes unreadable, his face completely blank. His eyes immediately looked to Kris, and an arm went around Kris's shoulder, a whisper into his ear. Shelley looked away. Even though she had just shared something terribly intimate with both of them, she still felt as if she were intruding.

"I think it might be better if we leave now," Adam whispered.

Shelley nodded. "I'm sorry," her voice cracked. "I should have—"

Adam shook his head. "No. Don't be. Just—"

Shelley nodded and walked out the door. She could check, to see where they went next, but she was too tired and too sick. She hurt, not because of where they had been, but because of where they were going. Their road lay in heartache, no matter which one they took. And it killed her.

*

When the letter arrived three weeks later with a small package attached, she almost threw it away. But curiosity got the better of her and she opened it.

_Dear Shelley,_

_I looked a lot of stuff up on the Internet, and it says that this should work. I just wanted you to know that things…things aren't better per se, but I think we both came to understand quite a bit that night, and I wanted you to know what happened, Not because I think you want to, but because I think you need to know._

_Kris Allen_

_P. S. I'm hijacking this letter for one moment and saying: don't ever ever regret what you have been given. It may seem like a curse, but what you have gave me perspective in ways I cannot imagine. ~Adam._

Shelley put the letter down and opened the box. She pulled out a shirt, recognizing it as the one Kris had worn that night. She closed her eyes.

_flick_

"Wait."

They had reached the buses. The others had asked why they were leaving so early. Adam had made excuses about bad funnel cake, and Kris had mumbled agreement.  
Adam shook his head, "I don't know if I want to talk about it."

There had been so much information in so little time. So much. Kris shook his head, trying to clear the vivid images from his head.

"I just need to know something. For me."

"Kris, please," Adam pleaded.

Kris looked up. Adam looked frazzled, worried. Kris had never seen those expressions on Adam's face, so it took a moment for him to recognize them.

"No. I have the right. I do."

"Then just ask it already," Adam's tone was clipped, and he wouldn't look at Kris.

"Could you—could you love me?"

Adam closed his eyes and leaned his head against the bus, a short, bitter laugh escaping his lips.

"I could very easily fall in love with you Kristopher Allen."

Kris nodded, biting his lip. He blinked back tears.

"Are we done now?" Adam's eyes were wet too, and he began to walk away.

Kris caught his hand. "Why won't you ever ask me?"

"Because! I can't! I can't do that to you!"

Kris held onto Adam's wrist, surprised that he could keep him there. "I could you know. Love you. Just as easily. I know it’s impossible, but you should know."

Adam stood stock still, his face flashing from surprise to happiness to guilt to pain in a matter of seconds.

"Kris. We shouldn't be talking like this. It doesn't help."

"It does. It needed to be out in the open. I couldn't stand it anymore. Maybe now we can move on. Except—"

"Except what? What now?" Adam's voice was resigned.

Adam’s eyes opened wide as Kris stepped forward and kissed him. At first he didn't move, then his arms were around Kris, the night silent except for the rustle of their clothes against each other, the air rushing in as they broke apart. Kris nodded.

"That's what I thought."

This time Kris began to walk away, when Adam ensnared him in a hug, holding tighter than he ever had before. He heard Adam sob the words "I'm sorry" into his hair, and he said them right back, buried them in Adam's chest. They stood for what seemed like ages.

"I'm going to bed now," Adam looked like he was going to say something else, but he shrugged and walked onto the bus.

Kris watched him for a moment, looked up at the stars, and prayed silently.

_flick_

Shelley looked up from the shirt, crying still. It hurt, but at the same time loved what they had given her. She knew she would never see the likes of them again, not if she lived another hundred years. Then a piece of paper fell out of the shirt and she bent to pick it up.

_I wrote this quickly, so Adam wouldn't see. He still looks at me sometimes, like he wonders, still looks away because it hurts. It hurts me too, but I had to make a decision. I made vows, and being with him would cause just as much pain as being without. But I guessed you knew that didn't you? I saw it, before we left, in your eyes. Know then, that I hold this close to my heart: if what we saw was any indication, there is always another lifetime. Another world. Another chance. After all, you said there were many more lives we did not see, and perhaps in one of them we found some measure of happiness. And perhaps we will again._

_It's a small hope, but it is all I have._


End file.
